Silent
by sherlockian54
Summary: Tells the story of Sherlock's childhood and how it contributed to the reason why he pushes people away today. Light Johnlock
1. The Party

He knew he couldn't keep it a secret for forever. One day sooner or later the truth was bound to slip out. Nothing could stop that from happening, but in that time, that moment, he didn't give a care in the world what people thought. He had Sherlock and that was all that mattered.

They couple was staring out of the window in 221B bakers street simply watching the snow fall onto the silent city. Sherlock stood behind John with his arms wrapped lovingly around his waist. They had been standing in this position for nearly 2 hours, just completely and utterly lost in thought, but both knew that no matter what happened they would both be there for each other.

That was something in particular that Sherlock had never experienced before.

He was envious of John for never having to go through what he himself had. He knew John had his worries about what people would think but at least they had each other.

That had been all Sherlock had wanted all his life. Just simply to be accepted. He wasn't asking for much, people didn't have to like him (he in fact didn't like most people) but he still hoped that maybe they could have been a little less cruel.

Sherlock knew from a very young age that he was gay, and soon his entire family knew as well. He thought it nothing that he needed to hide, that it was just the way he was. He _thought_ that he didn't care, nor ever would care about what people thought about him. That's why he never bothered to tell anyone.

He was a very free spirited child, he was joyful and spent his days running around the family garden playing with his brother. Of course, he was always very intelligent often pointing out the life stories of passers by. His brother Mycroft simply thought that this was just a little game he played, that it was all just stories made up in the sun to pass the time. During these golden days it never occurred to anyone that Sherlock was any different to other children.

This however was all before his seventh birthday. Sherlock could still remember how awful that day had been. He was so excited that he was finally turning seven. He was going to have a great party and was inviting all of his _friends_ and thought they were simply going to have a great day of playing, eating cake, and having fun like at all of the other birthday parties he had attended.

Sherlock woke early on that day, he could hardly fall asleep the night before due to excitement. He ran up to his parents bedroom yelling for them to get up so they could all start preparing for the great party he was going to have. After half an hour of impatient waiting his mom did come down to settle him down and occupy him with something so they could get a bit more sleep. She sent Sherlock outside to go for a walk to "clear his mind" so that he would not forget anything important for the party. Sherlock readily agreed, happy to do anything to make sure that his birthday was the best one ever.

Though he was ecstatic Sherlock always had the tendency to get lost in his own thoughts. That's why by the time he got back to his house children were already beginning to arrive. Though rather than having their cheeks flushed with excitement has Sherlock had hoped, they all seemed abnormally quiet. He knew that he had never been all too great with human emotions, but he could tell that something just wasn't quiet right.

Once inside the house he noticed Mycroft sitting at the kitchen table snickering with a couple of his friends. They kept slyly staring at him over their shoulders but quickly looking away when Sherlock returned the gaze.

"Well that was odd" Sherlock thought. He continued contemplating what could possibly be happening and had 6 theories, going on 7, by the time he reached the door of his room.

However, he realized that none of them were half as bad as what he saw on the other side of that heavy door...slowly creaking open to reveal the torment that would be the rest of his life.


	2. Cruel

**Sorry for the bit of a wait guys, I couldn't quite get this one the way I liked it. I would just like to say a special thank you to the people who sent in reviews ****you guys honestly made my day, I couldn't stop smiling! It was my first Sherlock fanfic and I'm glad it went over so well:) I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!**

* * *

Suddenly he understood why Mycroft and his friends were snickering, and why everyone had been so quiet outside. He was sure he could never have the strength to face any of the people who were here now. Oh, god why did he have to invite so many people?

He was never afraid of everyone knowing he was gay, He just figured that they already knew and that it really wasn't even that big of a deal. Actually he never thought it was a _deal_ at all, it was just the way he was and that was that. But you see that wasn't why he was scared to face everyone.

He was scared to face everyone now because that was not all there was written in his room. People hated things about him that he loved. Things that he before thought had made him special. The intelligence, and the ability to deduce things from peoples lives at just a glance.

His entire world was spinning before his eyes. He was shaking and crying, but remained standing in that doorway. More than anything he wanted to go inside and stay in that room forever, and he would if it weren't for what lay in there. If he were to take one more step inside, and see the other names hidden from view he was sure he would break down. Confused, angry and just completely devastated Sherlock couldn't do anything else but run into the bathroom and lock himself in.

After around half an hour his mother did come upstairs, wondering where he was, it wasn't like him to shy away from friends at his own party. Of course the first place she thought to look was his bedroom. She took one tentative step in the doorway and her jaw dropped open.

Scratched into the wallpaper, carved into his desk, and spray-painted on the floor and on his bed were words.

_FAG  
__PSYCHOPATH  
__GAY  
__DELIRIOUS  
__SOCIOPATH_

She knew right away who put them there. Mycroft. He knew his brother better than anyone else, they spent practically all of their time together, but what would possess him to do this?

Now any other mother would run to find where her son was, comfort him and punish whomever did this to him. I mean, that would be the normal and logical thing to do, yes?

Well Sherlock's mother was different. She _seemed _normal. She seemed like the kind of person you would love to go out for coffee with to chat about friends. She seemed like the kind of person who could go outside enjoying every day, being totally comfortable in her skin; but most of all she seemed like the kind of person who would have her own opinions.

And she did, she just never dared to show them. She was absolutely obsessed with what people thought about her. When she was standing there reading all of those words about her son the first thing that came to her mind was not " Oh god, where's Sherlock I hope he's okay" but rather "Oh god, what are people going to say about me? What are people going to say about our family? Our good name is going to be ruined!"

That's why instead of running to find Sherlock and scolding Mycroft, she pulled herself together, put on a happy face and marched right back down the stairs.

Sherlock on the other hand sat there in the bathtub, his small body was quivering and shaking. He was entirely shattered and drenched with sweat and tears. His whole world as he knew it was falling down onto him and he couldn't escape.

He had heard his mother come up the stairs, and he knew she must have seen the words but she did not come to help. He could picture exactly what happened, she had come up the stairs, seen the words and brushed them off as if nothing had happened. He could hear her muffled voice coming through the vent.

"So sorry for the inconvenience folks, but it turns out Sherlock is feeling a tad under the weather today. Feel free to stay and have fun though, after all we wouldn't want a good cake to go to waste!"

It was at that moment, while Sherlock was huddled in the bathtub with his knees pulled up to his chest that he realized something.

For the first time in his life Sherlock knew that even in his own family, he was utterly alone.


End file.
